


Five Steps to Perfect Skin

by dirtbag



Category: Love Live! Sunshine!!
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 21:56:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13040247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtbag/pseuds/dirtbag
Summary: It’s cold outside, even with the sun high and bright overhead, and Riko is in the middle of the school courtyard with one arm slung around You’s shoulders.





	Five Steps to Perfect Skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magicasen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicasen/gifts).



It’s cold outside, even with the sun high and bright overhead, and Riko is in the middle of the school courtyard with one arm slung around You’s shoulders. 

You is shivering in her uniform even with the extra warmth, miserably grumbling a bunch of stuff that Riko can’t hear due to the big fluffy scarf obscuring most of her face. 

Riko knows their closeness right now doesn’t mean anything except that You hates the cold and is liable to attach herself to the nearest living being whenever the temperature drops below a certain threshold. Somehow, the knowledge doesn’t stop her heart from beating faster when You’s head comes to rest against her shoulder. 

“Riko-chan,” says a voice from somewhere inside the scarf-prison. “I’m dying.”

“Aren’t you being a bit dramatic?” Riko asks, trying to keep the laughter out of her voice. 

You peers over the top of the scarf, pinning Riko with a look of betrayal. Riko tries to look contrite, but it’s kind of hard when all she can think about is how cute You looks like this. It’s almost enough to make her wish that some of the others would show up to serve as a distraction, because she’s pretty sure everything she’s thinking is written all over her face. 

“I can’t help it,” You says plaintively, sniffing hard and bringing one hand up to rub at her nose. It looks chapped, and it’s turning red at the tip in a way that looks cute but can’t possibly be comfortable. 

You’s hand looks the same way, and without even thinking Riko reaches out to grab it. Upon getting a closer look, it’s just as she’d expected— You’s knuckles look as raw and red as her nose, her skin rough and dry to the touch. 

It’s only when she looks up to speak that she realizes that You’s been watching her. Riko can’t quite pinpoint the kind of look she has on her face, but it’s definitely not one Riko sees on her often. 

As quickly as she can without it seeming weird, Riko drops You’s hand. 

“You-chan,” she says, trying for reproachful instead of flustered. “You’re slacking off.”

At Riko’s words, You’s expression melts right back into her usual easygoing grin. 

“I know,” she says, rubbing at the back of her neck. “But my usual stuff isn’t working, and I don’t really have anything fancy at home— and I sorta burnt through my allowance for the month already.”

You rushes through that last part, smile edging toward sheepish, and all at once Riko is hit with a swell of affection for her. That’s been happening more and more often lately, but it never fails to take her by surprise. 

“What if I bring some things over to your house after school?” 

Even as the words come out of her mouth, Riko is a bit taken aback by them. She half-expects You to say that she’s busy, or ask if Riko will just bring the products with her to school tomorrow. 

What she doesn’t expect at all is the huge grin that breaks out across You’s face, or her parting exclamation before the bell rings and they both start hurrying off to class. 

“It’s a date!”

— — —

Later, Riko stands fidgeting in front of You’s door. The plastic shopping bag she’d filled with sheet masks and serums and moisturizers and hand cream feels heavy against her side, and for a moment she regrets all the extra stuff she’d thrown in. What if You just thinks it’s a hassle?

Before she has time to do any emergency fine-tuning, You opens up her front door and ushers Riko inside. 

“You got here fast!” she comments, leading Riko down the hall into her bedroom. In spite of all her nervousness, Riko can’t help but feel more at ease once they get inside; it’s a small room, comfortable, with an overwhelming sense of You-ness to it. Riko wants to say something about it, but she’s not sure how to put it into words without sounding weird. 

“I got worried your hands might fall off,” she says instead, sitting down next to You on her bed and setting the bag of products down in between them. You’s eyes widen as she peers inside. 

“What’s this do?” You asks, pulling a few pink-labeled jars out of the bag at random. “And this?”

“That’s a hand mask,” Riko begins, and the next several minutes are lost to a detailed rundown of every step of the improvised skincare routine she’d brought over for You to try out, explaining which ingredients did what and why the benefits of taking good care of one’s skin in the wintertime far outweighed any extra inconvenience. 

You listens raptly to every word, interjecting every so often to ask questions, and her obvious sincerity helps calm Riko’s nerves even more. 

“Riko-chan,” she says once Riko finally reaches the end of her diatribe, taking a deep breath and putting down a tub of snail cream. “You’re amazing.”

It’s the sort of thing a kind, supportive girl like You would say to anyone, but Riko still feels her face getting hot. 

“Not really,” she says, doing her best to play it off. You just grabs her hands and leans forward, getting in close enough that Riko can see the determined set of her eyebrows and the peeling skin at the very tip of her nose. 

“I mean it!” she says, giving RIko’s hands a squeeze. “It was really nice of you to bring all this stuff over, and—”

She cuts herself off, letting go of Riko’s hands, but the look of determination doesn’t fade. 

And then, just like that, You kisses Riko on the cheek.

It’s over so quickly that Riko almost manages to convince herself it was a hallucination, some split-second daydream born out of her own wishful thinking, but the feeling of You’s slightly-chapped lips pressing a little bit too hard against her cheek can’t be anything but real. 

You pulls back, and it’s all Riko can do just to lift one hand up to touch the cheek she’d kissed, slightly dazed. 

“Sorry if that was too forward,” You presses on. Her face is as open as always, but when Riko glances down, she can see You’s hands twisting over themselves in her lap as she picks anxiously at a hangnail. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

By way of response, Riko takes a deep breath and reaches out, grabbing You’s hand in hers. It feels rough in spots, just the same as earlier, and a little bit sweaty, which is a new development. It takes all of Riko’s courage to lace their fingers together, to hold You’s hand like she really means it, but the grin You gives her in response is more than worth it. 

Half an hour later, when they’re both lying on the floor of You’s room and reading comics in their sheet masks, Riko thinks that maybe it was silly of her to be nervous about coming over after all.


End file.
